by Ryk E. Spoor
One. Two. Three!
He lunged into the room, gun sweeping . . . and then slowly dropping, as he realized there was nothing here to threaten him . . . or to be saved.
Four induction beds were spaced around the large room, with full support equipment—equipment which had been smashed and burned. A fifth on the far side was not quite as badly damaged, but had been shot and smashed as well.
In the middle of the room, still exuding a stench of burning and death, was a pile of ash from which protruded the charred ends of bones.
Many bones.
Dead. All of them.
He became conscious of Oasis crying, whispering the names of the four who would now never awaken. “D’Arbignal . . . Giles . . . Johnny . . . Telzey . . .”
There was one other door, to a side room, and DuQuesne turned towards it. No other way out of here, and that door was sealed. This was just finished while we were coming here; we’d have seen whoever it was.
He reached for the door control.
“STOP, YOUTH!”
Mentor’s echoing command—carried through the room’s speakers and his own headware—made him leap back. “What?”
“I detected a shift in electrical potential at your approach to the door.”
Shift . . . but that would mean . . .
“You wouldn’t have sensed it if there wasn’t a hell of a voltage applied to that area.” He studied the surface carefully. No sign of anything . . . but the contact could be from the other side, so you wouldn’t see anything.
He glanced around, grabbed up one of the broken supports from the nearest bed, and lobbed it at the door.
Sparks flew and the metal support bar almost vaporized. “Holy moley. Must have run one of the main or secondary feeds straight into the wall.” That would be a hell of a job to set up and make it work, too. Confine it to the wall, so it doesn’t jump to the floor . . . Damn, that’s some good work. Whoever this is, they’re good.
He gritted his teeth. DuQuesne wanted nothing as badly as he wanted to go through that door and find whoever—or whatever—was responsible, who had killed his friends and nearly killed the doctor whose only offense was to keep them alive. But I can’t. It’d take at least a little while to disarm that thing, and Davison needs my help.
“There will be . . . clues in the wreckage,” Oasis said from beside him. Her hand touched his arm; even through the armor he could feel her squeeze once. “We’ll find this son of a bitch. Whoever he or she is, we’ll find them.”
“Yeah. We will,” DuQuesne agreed. “But . . . you’re right.” He remembered one of the other Hyperions, long gone, but her words still echoed in his head, and as he spoke them, Oasis echoed:
“Tend first to the living, for the dead can wait.”
CHAPTER 48
“So you found the greatest DNA/RNA commonality between us and the Genasi—the natives of the arena?” Laila Canning nodded, emphatically. “That’s . . . amazing. What do you think it means?”
“Means?” Laila looked at her momentarily with the expression of someone hearing utter nonsense. “I don’t know that it means anything . . . Honestly, Captain, I’m not sure I know what you mean by ‘what it means.’”
Ariane thought for a moment. “You know . . . I’m not sure I do, either. Except I know I mean something by it.”
Laila shrugged. “Well, if you can clarify—”
A green ball of light materialized in front of them. “Selpa’a’At of the Vengeance and his companions request admittance.”
She glanced over, reflexively, to see that Wu Kung was right behind her, a silent shadow. He’s gotten really good at that . . . or maybe I’ve just gotten used to having a bodyguard.
The thought was unsettling. She pushed that aside and answered, “Of course, Selpa. You may enter—”
“—with no more than two others,” Wu put in. She raised an eyebrow, but let it pass; she’d had plenty of evidence that Wu knew what he was doing.
One of the side doors opened and Simon emerged, talking to Carl and Gabrielle, as the voice of Selpa’a’At said “It is as you request.”
The green ball vanished, but at the same time the front door to the lobby of Humanity’s Embassy and Faction House opened. The daddy-longlegs form of Selpa entered, multiple legs picking their way delicately across the polished floor; he was followed by two cloaked figures with symbols of the Vengeance—a shattered sphere—embroidered on the front. Bodyguards, probably. Move like bipeds . . . maybe Wagamia, Relgof and Mandallon’s species.
“Welcome again to our Embassy, Selpa’a’At. May your course be ever your own.”
“And yours as well, Captain Austin.”
She thought there was a note of . . . something . . . nervousness? diffidence? in the voice of the leader of the Vengeance. “What brings you here in person, Swordmaster First?”
“It is . . . a matter we discussed previously, and one which you have the right to know in person.”
Oh, no.
One of the figures straightened and pushed back its hood.
Waves of golden hair cascaded down, framing a face so perfect in its beauty that Ariane momentarily felt plain. The eyes were merry, blue as a deep summer sky, the mouth just right and smiling—a smile that held a considerable note of triumph. There was no possible doubt as to who this was, it could be none other than . . .
“Maria-Susanna, formerly of Humanity,” Selpa’a’At said, “has formally requested to join, and been accepted to, the Faction of the Vengeance.”
Damn. Damn!
But it wasn’t Ariane, or Laila, or even Simon who reacted first. Ariane felt herself pushed aside by the wiry frame of Sun Wu Kung. “Maria-Susanna?”
The triumphant expression on the perfect, blonde-framed features abruptly transfigured to astonishment and dawning joy. “Wu? WU KUNG!”
The Monkey King ran forward and Maria-Susanna ran to meet him; Wu caught her and spun her around and around, and she laughed incredulously. “It’s really you, Wu!” She looked at Ariane, and her smile was like a benediction. “He did it, didn’t he? Marc, I mean. I thought it was impossible, but he actually did it!”
Ariane felt a momentary tug at her heart, felt a completely involuntary smile crossing her face. I’ve been warned, I know who and what she is, and it’s still affecting me like this. I suppose I’m not too surprised by Wu’s reaction—the last time he saw her, she was still his ally. But that sunshiny perfection shouldn’t affect me that way. She noticed the others also smiling in reflexive sympathy . . . except, to her surprise, Simon, who was studying them for a moment with an analytic intensity that startled her.
“Well,” Ariane said, finding to her surprise that she couldn’t keep a touch of warmth from her voice, “from what Marc and Wu said, it was really the Arena that did it—offered him a universe of wonders to explore.”
“And Sha Wujing kicked me in the head until I started thinking!” Wu added. As abruptly as he had leapt forward with joy, he pulled away and looked at Maria-Susanna gravely. “They told me you were doing bad things.”
Ariane expected the golden Hyperion to deny the charge; to her surprise, Maria-Susanna stared at Wu and suddenly dropped her gaze. “I suppose . . . you would see it that way. I wish I could explain it simply, Wu. But it’s very complicated.” She looked up. “If you come with me, though, I can—”
“No.” Wu looked regretful, but the word was iron. “I’ve got a mission. I’m the captain’s bodyguard.”
Now Ariane saw, for the first time, the adversary. For just a split second, the brilliant blue eyes narrowed and hardened, the mouth became tighter; a glance of cold annoyance, appraisal, and suspicion that flickered between Maria-Susanna and herself, an expression that indicated more than anything the mercurial and dangerous temperament of the renegade Hyperion.
But it was a glance cast over Wu’s shoulder, just a momentary dropping of a mask, and the mask was replaced instantly. “How very fortunate for Captain Austin. I trust you realize how luck
y you are to have Wu as a bodyguard?”
“Oh, very much so.” More than you could imagine. “Marc insisted. At first I thought it was a foolish idea, but I’ve learned since then just how smart he was.”
“Marc decided that?” Maria-Susanna raised an eyebrow. “I see.” She looked to the side, and that smile lit her face again. “Doctor Sandrisson! Your theories led to some most interesting results, didn’t they?”
Simon stepped forward; he smiled, but Ariane was impressed by the fact that it was a professional smile. Why aren’t you being affected by her presence? The rest of us are. “It certainly did, Doctor Shoshana . . . or I suppose I should use your real name, Maria-Susanna. I am glad you admired my work so much that you had to steal it.”
Oh, ouch. Ariane could see the perfect eyebrows arch and the eyes look hurt, but that didn’t cause Simon to shift his expression one bit; instead, he shifted his gaze to Selpa’a’At. “Not meaning any offense, but . . . Swordmaster First, I trust you are aware of . . . who and what you have just admitted to your Faction?”
Selpa’a’At bobbed low on his legs, then rose. “A calculated risk, yes. A renegade of your own people, with some specific connection to Marc DuQuesne, and—apparently—your bodyguard Wu Kung. But a renegade whose goals and motivations appear to align with our own, and who has given us . . . good and valuable consideration as a sign of her good faith.”
He already knows she’s a wanted criminal, so we can’t easily drive a wedge between her and the Vengeance that way. She’s still staying circumspect about her and DuQuesne’s origin, too, depending on us not to want to reveal anything about Hyperion either. And she’s right, too; both of us want to keep those trump cards hidden. Ariane sighed, then forced herself to smile. “Well, I can’t pretend this is the way I’d have wanted things to go—our secrets are, of course, part of our strength, as I would presume they are for any Faction—but I certainly bear you no ill-will for taking advantage of an obviously very inviting opportunity.”
“I thank you, Captain Austin. And you speak truth. Still, we owe you something, as I believe I acknowledged prior to your last departure, and we have no intention of using this information against you.”
Wu returned to her side, looking thoughtful and a bit sad. She resisted an impulse to pat his arm or shoulder, which she suspected wouldn’t allow him to look like a proper bodyguard.
Selpa’a’At’s spherical body rose and dropped in his people’s formal salute. “Then having notified you, I shall bid you farewell; I doubt not that you have many other duties to perform.”
“I thank you for your consideration in coming to give us this news personally, Selpa. May your course be ever your own.”
“And yours as well.” The spidery alien turned in place and proceeded out; Maria-Susanna replaced her hood with a last, enigmatic glance backwards, and followed him out.
As the door closed, Laila shook her head. “That is not at all good.”
“No,” Ariane said, “But there’s not much we can do about it, and at least we know where she is. Being a part of a Faction will also limit her, I hope. But damn I wish DuQuesne were here. I’m going to have to talk to him as soon as we can about this.”
Simon looked grave, as did Carl and Gabrielle. “Ariane,” Simon began, “Something about that entire sequence of events bothered me. I—”
For the second time in half an hour, a green comm-ball interrupted someone who was talking to her. “Tanglil of the Blessed To Serve requests admission and audience with Ariane Austin of Humanity.”
Everyone fell instantly silent, and the distant tension was suddenly a ball of red-hot wire in her stomach. Here it comes. “You may enter, Tanglil.”
Tanglil was a more delicately built member of his species, at least eight centimeters shorter than Sethrik and much lighter, and walked with short, quick steps that were reminiscent of a bird’s—or reconstructions of raptorial dinosaurs. He stopped a few meters from Ariane and dropped to a full pushup bow. “The Minds of the Blessed send you greetings, and a response to your message recently presented to them.” He rose and from a pouch at his side produced a crystal. “The recording is contained herein; the interfaces within your Embassy can read it.”
Wu Kung stepped forward and took the crystal, studied it momentarily before handing it to Ariane.
Tanglil bob-bowed. “It is done, then. These words are for you alone, Captain Ariane Austin; even I, Leader of the Blessed To Serve, know not what the Minds have chosen to say unto you, only that I was to present it with great respect. Now I must leave, for I may not hear that which has been delivered.”
Ariane returned the bow, and waited for the door to lock.
She looked around. “Well, come on,” she said, heading to one of the conference rooms. “As far as I’m concerned, this is for all of us. It’s not like I’d hide the results from you anyway.”
She found herself swallowing and taking a couple of deep breaths. The port for the crystal was fairly obvious, and as soon as she’d inserted it the crystal glowed a pale blue. She sat down in her chair, looked to see that the others were ready, and then said, “Play message.”
The room went dark, and suddenly they were within a vast chamber, sculpted crystal and night-black composites and silver and green and gold alloys rising around them like the arches and columns of a cathedral. Before them, the great supports formed six immense archways; and within each archway was a face.
The faces were of Blessed . . . or, Ariane realized slowly, something very like them. The crests were subtly different, the faces just slightly broader, details of the structure shifted just a bit here and there. I wonder . . . I think that might be what the Blessed looked like before they were . . . redesigned.
“We are the Minds.”
The voice shook the table, vibrated in Ariane’s chest, echoed in her head, a voice that was actually many voices, speaking in perfect and mighty unison, even though it seemed to be spoken hardly louder than a whisper. For a moment she felt a stab of fear. Are they actually here? Is this a trap?
“Stop message,” she said quickly.
As sudden as a light going out, they were back in the conference room. Even Wu Kung looked a little pale under his fur. “Sorry about that,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Just wanted to make sure there was nothing funny about the recording.”
“Well, it couldn’t be actual AIs,” Simon said, with an and I knew that, so why was I so worried tone that echoed her own relief, “and they couldn’t embed nanotechnology in them either, so there really isn’t anything to worry about. It’s just . . . more immersive than I had expected.”
“You got that right,” Gabrielle said with a wry smile. “Theatrics and a half, I’d say.”
Ariane smiled and relaxed, just a hair. “All right. Everyone ready now?”
After everyone had nodded, she said, “Resume message.”
Even with advance warning, even knowing this was nothing but a VR projection, the voice and chamber still sent a thrill of awe through her.
“We are the Minds. We are the Guides and the Watchers. From the Beginning to the End, we have been and are and shall be. We are the Six,” and for a moment the great unified voice became singular, as each of the great faces spoke in turn: “Thilomon, Dellak, Locasus, Tynenousan, Nysket, and Pelarinshar.” Thunderous unity returned as the Minds continued, “We speak for the Blessed. We speak now to you, Captain Ariane Stephanie Austin of Humanity.
“Your message has been received and analyzed. All of the Six have considered its every aspect, and we have examined the data on Humanity that has been delivered to us, and specifically the data on you, the Leader of the Faction, as well as those who had arranged your removal.
“The Minds do not often accede to threats. Yet your message was not entirely threat, but offered instead a possibility of increasing a reputation that might be lost. We have verified that you have taken the step that was promised.
“The Minds recognize, now, that we failed in every pa
rticular. You admit to having been captured, and no set of calculations of probability admit of any significant manner in which you could have escaped, save one: that you have completely mastered the powers of Shadeweaver or Faith, and used them to destroy the task force and return to Nexus Arena. At the same time, this, too, seems utterly improbable, as your powers were sealed away, you have joined neither Shadeweaver nor Faith, and too little time has passed.”
Thilomon glowed brighter, and its voice slightly dominated the others. “Either alternative shows how gravely we have erred. Unknown factors have led to a defeat which the Minds and the Blessed have not seen in ten thousand years and more.
“A penalty must be paid for failure so severe, for errors in judgment that cost so many ships, the lives of so many of the Blessed who depend on us and trust our knowledge and wisdom.”
The six voices united fully again. “The Minds of the Blessed to Serve therefore agree to the terms set forth by you, Ariane Austin. Three Spheres we do give to Humanity, to be given unto your Faction in precisely the manner they would be had you challenged the Blessed and won.
“May our Factions know peace, and not war. The Minds have spoken.”
Instantly the Hall of the Minds disappeared and they were once more in the conference room. Ariane felt a rising sense of triumph, a great grin beginning, spreading across her face, the others smiling, opening their mouths to cheer—
A great bell-like chime rang through the Embassy, and a voice even more powerful and awe-inspiring than the Minds’ spoke in quiet yet deafening tones: “Type Two Challenge concluded. Winner: Ariane Austin and the Faction of Humanity against the Minds and Faction of the Blessed To Serve.”
CHAPTER 49
Simon saw DuQuesne stop short at the threshold of the Embassy foyer. “What the living . . . ?” Oasis, too, looked momentarily dumbfounded. Simon repressed a smile. I can’t blame them.